The Sorting Hat- Origins
by A Muffin with a Mission
Summary: "The sorting hat wasn't always known as the sorting hat. He wasn't always tattered, dirty, a patchwork of thoughts, fabric, and time. Some people tended to neglect this, whether it be out of ignorance, or apathy. He had had been something else once. But it was the past, meant to stay in the past." Possibly AU, a series of one-shots centered around the Sorting Hat.


Just started thinking about it one day, and got curious. I came up with a few ideas, and ended up trying to come up with a reasons for why he is like he is. A few drabbles later, I decided to post them. Thanks.

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**The Origins of the Sorting Hat**

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The sorting hat wasn't always known as the sorting hat. He wasn't always tattered, dirty, a patchwork of thoughts, fabric, and time. Some people tended to neglect this, whether it be out of ignorance, or apathy. He had had been something else once. But it was the past, meant to stay in the past. That is, until one day a small diminutive first year- Ravenclaw- the Sorting Hat thought, asked a question that no one else had ever bothered to.

"Did you always sort us kids? Mr. Sorting Hat?"- Wide brown eyes stared back at him. The decrepit hat had no idea how the girl found him, no idea why she was even there. But when asked she said, "I can't help but be curious."

It was a good choice to make her a Ravenclaw. Little Sophie was quite a lot like Rowena, curious to a fault, and gosh darn intelligent, if a little on the cold side. But she always preferred hard fact over rumor. It was an easy choice. Uniform a bit on the large side, so she could grow into it. She was one of those kids who were endearing, if a little on the strange side; you couldn't help but want to do what they said. Stupid puppy dog eyes.

Now, she was being a bit of a bother. She was bustling about Dumbledore's office, poking this and that, oohing and awing. "Girl, Don't you have something better to do than irritate an old man?"

This drew her attention, "Well, are you going to answer my question?"

Play dumb? "What question."

"The one I asked you before."

"Oh…. That question."

"Well?"

"No."

"What? Why not?!" Her eyebrows pushed down on her eyes in adorable righteous fury.

"I don't want to." Translation: Leave me alone.

"But-"

She didn't seem to get it. Strange, she was a bright girl. "Girl, do you honestly have nothing better to do than bother an old hat about something it can barely remember? Dredge up memories from earlier than the tenth century?"

Oh no! She was starting to sniff and tear up. He always had a problem being too blunt on the kiddies. They couldn't help that they were innocent and curious. He stared into shiny eyes, and saw a hint of calculation there. Oh, Ravenclaw, right.

"It is none of your business, don't think I don't know what you are trying to do. You won't get anything out of me tonight. If anything, you're out past curfew; go to bed."

She stayed there and he ignored her. Even when she poked at him, and pulled on his stitched up bits. He continued to stay silent and ignore her actions. Maybe an hour passed, time was relative, and he was patient.

The first sign that someone was entering were the footsteps echoing on the stairs leading up to the headmaster's office. With a glance he could tell that little Sophie was halfway to passed out on the floor next to where he was situated. He wasn't worried. Dumbledore was always a rather kind headmaster, willing to go to extreme lengths for the betterment of the lives of his students.

Entering the room, Dumbledore's twinkling eyes immediately focused on what shouldn't be there, mainly, Sophie.

"...Ah, another one then?"

"Hmph. You know it."

This ushered a soft chuckle out of Dumbledore, where upon he waved his wand levitating the small girl off of the floor.

"The best of each year in Ravenclaw often find their way up hear, driven by insatiable curiosity."

"Yeah, they wouldn't be like her if they didn't do crazy things in the pursuit of knowledge every once in a while." This came out a bit wistful.

"What I have to wonder though, is how they always get this idea into their heads. That I was ever anything more than a hat, I mean. "

The look on Dumbledore's face, even so obviously marked by age and wrinkles, was only one of mischievousness.

"Oh, I wonder…"

"You didn't. You can't."

"And you're right, I did not." His face turned serious, "I would never betray the trust of you and my predecessors by doing something like telling the innermost secrets of Hogwarts to the world."

"Better not, boy." Grumpily, the hat settled down to wait until he was needed again.

Deciding it best to ignore the 'boy' comment he continued, "Now, it'd be best I get this young girl to bed, she is up here quite late; and I am sure her young friends are missing her presence."

"Don't bother me 'til next year!" The aggrieved hat called out on Dumbledore's way out the door.

On his way out the door, he said softly, continuing the earlier conversation, "After all, it was Rowena who wrote that book in the Ravenclaw common room, not I."

"Huh?!-"

The angered call was cut off, as he exited the room, sleeping girl bobbing along behind him.

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**The Next Morning**

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The next morning found Sophie in her bed, sunlight streaming through the windows and beating angrily against her eyelids. Groaning, she could only guess at how she ended up safely back in her bed.

Groaning, she complained to her neighbor, "Aghhhhhh, only a little bit more, and I am sure he would have given me the infoooooooooo."

Her friend and neighbor barely gave her the time of day, "Soph, I don't get why you want to know so bad. It talks about his origins in "Hogwarts, a History" and I don't see why you have to look into it more than that." Having said that, she left the room.

She couldn't give up, not yet, not until she knew the truth. Leaning forward until she was perpendicular to the floor, feet handing off one end of the bed, she reached under it until her hands came into contact with soft, smooth leather. The book.

She sat on the bed, and placed the book in the center of her lap. Opening to a page, towards the back of the book, she zeroed in on the page, "The Sorting Hat: Its History and Hogwarts".

She whispered to the aged and yellowing pages, "I know there is more to the stupid hat than what people think. I won't give up without knowing the truth. The second part was said more quietly, and sadder, "I just can't."

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And that is the end of the chapter that will be sort of an introduction to any and all one-shots to come.

Thanks!

A Muffin with a Mission


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